


gimme all your poison

by xlightless



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-01-25 07:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12525688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xlightless/pseuds/xlightless
Summary: This is Warrior's story, a band young and reckless enough to have the ambition to burn brighter than the stars.Youngjae decides to film a documentary about a rising rock band.





	1. track 1: gravitation

“Youngjae, before you leave, I need to speak with you.”

Youngjae stops packing his things to look up at the professor. He zips up his backpack and makes his way to the front of the room. “Yes, Ms. Lee?”

“I noticed that you haven’t applied for the film festival,” she says, eyeing a list of names by her phone, probably the applicants. “I don’t mean to force you, but your social commentaries are brilliant. It’d be a shame if you didn’t submit anything.”

Youngjae shrugs. “I’m, um, looking for the right thing to film.”

Ms. Lee smiles. Youngjae mentally prepares himself for a serious lecture. “Youngjae, you can’t keep waiting for the ‘right thing’. You may end up missing your chance looking for perfection. Trust me, I used to do that when I was younger.”

Youngjae nods. “I’ll think about it.”

“I look forward to it, Youngjae. Remember, the deadline to apply is in a couple weeks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Youngjae bows his head before he walks out of the room, scrunching his face in thought. He wasn’t thinking of entering, but his professor has been bothering him about it the past couple weeks. He just doesn’t like the idea of having his films criticized. He doesn’t like putting himself out there like that to be judged so harshly.

The professor did promise extra credit––not that Youngjae really needs it––so he might as well.

An arm slings around his shoulders and he jumps up, ready to move, but he relaxes when he sees it’s Himchan.

“Hey,” Himchan says. “You doing anything right now?”

Youngjae shakes his head and keeps walking with Himchan still hanging on his shoulders.

“Let’s grab lunch.” Himchan nods in the general direction of food. “My treat.”

Youngjae raises an eyebrow because as much as he appreciates free food, he knows it isn’t really _free_. “What do you want, hyung?”

Himchan makes an offended scoff, placing a hand on his chest. “Can’t I buy you food without you suspecting me?”

“No,” Youngjae replies. “But if you’re buying, I’ll listen.”

Himchan grins, patting Youngjae and leading him in some direction.

Fifteen minutes later, they sit in a tiny restaurant overlooking a construction site from the second floor. Tall windows that span from the floor to the ceiling flood the entire place with light. The smell of good food wafts from the kitchen in the back. A quiet sort of chatter fills the space, peaceful and soothing.

“Wanna go to a party with me tonight?” Himchan asks after the waiter’s taken their orders.

Youngjae sips his water, raising an eyebrow. Himchan has invited him to plenty of parties before, but this one invitation feels a little different from the other ones. He places the glass down and looks Himchan in the eye. “What’s the catch?”

Himchan pretends to pout. “I need you to be my boyfriend. I heard my ex is gonna be there, and––“

“You wanna make him jealous,” Youngjae finishes because Himchan is petty like that. Not that Youngjae minds. It sounds fun. “Sure, I’ll do it.”

A weight seems to lift from Himchan’s shoulders as he perks up, his eyes shining with relief. “Really? Oh, thank god. I thought I was gonna have to ask someone else. You’re the only guy I can trust not to take this too seriously.”

“That’s me, never taking commitment serious enough.” Youngjae says with a derisive smile. 

Himchan frowns. “Wait, I didn’t mean––“

Youngjae waves a hand, dismissive. “So, am I supposed to just look pretty, or…?”

Himchan grins, mischievous and faux seduction, and winks. “Up to you, babe.”

//

Youngjae sips his beer. This party really blows. He can’t think of another party as boring as this one currently is. He lost Himchan a little over twenty minutes ago. There are way too many freshmen looking to get drunk. The music is too loud. He can barely hear the person talking to him.

“Hey, where's the bathroom?” Youngjae asks, not caring if he just interrupted the conversation.

“Upstairs,” is the reply.

Youngjae works his way through the writhing crowd. He leaves his beer on a table because he knows he’ll only end up spilling it in this clusterfuck of people. He passes by several couples making out on the staircase. When he reaches the top of the steps, the music is quieter, but that also means hearing the obscene sex a couple doors down.

Youngjae sighs and continues on his quest to find the bathroom.

“Yo, I told you to leave me the fuck alone.”

Youngjae raises an eyebrow. What else is going on up here? He peeks around a corner and finds two men arguing. The one with platinum blond hair grits his teeth, obviously uncomfortable with the other man. The other man’s back is to Youngjae, but he keps taking small steps towards the blond one.

“Playing hard to get, huh?” the other man asks. He sounds sleazy. Youngjae wants to gag. “You know I love it when you get all feisty.”

The blond sneers. “Fuck off. We've been over this before. You're a fucking bastard.”

Youngjae needs to do something. He needs to help that guy out. He can’t just walk away from this. Taking a deep breath, he walks up to them and slings his arm around the blond.

“Hey, babe, I was wondering where you went,” Youngjae says, trying to keep an easy grin on his face.

The blond at first gives Youngjae a look of disgust, but then he seems to realize Youngjae’s plan. He cranes his neck to press a kiss to the side of Youngjae’s mouth. “I got distracted by this dick. Let's go.”

“Daehyun!” the other man exclaims. “We're not done here! Who the fuck is this freak?!”

The blond, Daehyun, frowns. “Why would I talk to you about my personal life? Now fuck off.”

Daehyun begins walking away, wrapping his arm around Youngjae’s waist, when the other man shoves Youngjae against the wall, his forearm pressing into Youngjae’s chest. “You think you fucking deserve Daehyun?”

Youngjae clenches his fists despite being scared shitless. Maybe it’s the three sips of beer he had earlier giving him the confidence boost. “You obviously don't either.”

The man grits his teeth. He pulls an arm back, and his fist connects with Youngjae’s cheek before Youngjae can even react.

Youngjae’s head whips to the side. Heat floods his cheek.

“Hey, what the fuck!” Daehyun shouts. He tries to pull the man back, but he just shakes Daehyun off.

But Youngjae is already preparing to punch him back. He hits the man’s nose. He almost smiles at the crack he feels beneath his knuckles.

The man’s hand immediately flies up to his nose, his eyes wide with shock and anger. “You broke my goddamn nose?!”

Youngjae simply raises his fists. He’s ready for this. Whatever this may end up being.

The man shouts, and Youngjae braces himself. Daehyun pulls Youngjae out of the way just before the man lunges for him.

“Follow me!” Daehyun exclaims, his hand wrapping around Youngjae’s wrist.

Youngjae stumbles after Daehyun. They nearly fly down the steps. The other man charges after them, yelling out curses.

“Get the fuck back here!” he shouts. Several people turn their heads to see what’s going on. Those who are unfortunate enough to stand in the way are shoved to the side.

“Coming through!” Daehyun exclaims as he barrels past people. Youngjae brings his elbow up to his face to block any flying limbs. Daehyun plucks a bottle of beer out of someone’s hand. “I'll be needing this, thanks.”

Daehyun leads Youngjae out of the house and onto the sidewalk. Daehyun glances back and tugs Youngjae down the street. Youngjae realizes, about a block down and with an angry ex-boyfriend behind him, that maybe he shouldn't have gotten involved. He wonders if Himchan is looking for him right now.

“Watch out,” Daehyun says, turning his head just enough so that Youngjae catches a glimpse of a mischievous grin. Daehyun spins around on the balls of his feet, pushing Youngjae to the side, and throws the beer bottle at the man.

The man raises his arms up to block it, but the bottle shatters on him, dousing him in beer and glass. He looks up—Youngjae swears he sees death in those soulless eyes—but Daehyun is already running, his fist ready, towards the man.

He falls to the ground as soon as Daehyun hits him.

Daehyun turns around, his eyes terrifyingly wide under the yellow street lamp. “Holy _shiitake_.”

“I, uh, what the fuck?” is all Youngjae can manage to say.

Daehyun blinks, seemingly realizing that he’s standing next to a near stranger in the middle of the night, and takes a deep breath. Youngjae figures that if pretending to be a stranger’s boyfriend and nearly getting beat up by said stranger’s ex doesn’t bond two people, he doesn’t know what does. They shuffle awkwardly back to the party, waiting for the other to speak first. Youngjae shoves his hands into his pockets, avoiding looking too long at Daehyun.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Daehyun says, and Youngjae feels embarrassment flood his face. He realizes that maybe he shouldn’t have interfered in the first place. “But thanks anyway.”

And Youngjae doesn’t feel so bad anymore, but his cheek stings, and he probably has a wounded ego too somewhere. “Yeah… No problem.”

Daehyun glances at Youngjae, motioning towards his own cheek. “Sorry about the, you know, fist to the face.”

“I’m fine.” Youngjae shrugs. He feels his cheek throb in defiance. “Are _you_ alright?”

Daehyun lets out a single humorless laugh. “The dick’s been trying to get back with me for months now. He’s more annoying than anything.”

They make their way back to the house, the lights flashing from behind the curtains and heavy bass floating from the open windows. At this point, Youngjae just wants to go home.

“Let me get you something for your cheek,” Daehyun says, taking Youngjae by the wrist again. “Just follow me.”

The kitchen is surprisingly empty when they get there. Daehyun leaves Youngjae leaning against the counter and opens the fridge. He bends at the waist to look inside and pulls out two cans of beer. Youngjae won’t admit he stared a little too long at Daehyun’s ass.

“Here.” Daehyun holds out a can to Youngjae.

The can is cold against Youngjae’s cheek, and he sighs as it soothes the heat. “Thanks.”

“So,” Daehyun says, popping open his own can and taking a sip, “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

“Youngjae.”

Daehyun hums, taking another sip. “I’m Daehyun.” He’s silent for a beat before speaking again. “I actually hate owing people favors, so if you’d give me your number, I’d really appreciate that.”

Youngjae raises his eyebrows because he isn’t sure if there’s an ulterior motive or not, but he’s impressed either way. “Wow.”

Daehyun just grins. 

The music fades into white noise, and Youngjae is suddenly hyper-aware of the way Daehyun stares expectantly at him.

“Youngjae, where the fuck have you been?!” Himchan exclaims as he barrels into the kitchen.

Youngjae blinks, and the moment is broken as Himchan slings a loose arm across Youngjae’s slumped shoulders. He breathes alcohol into Youngjae’s ear as he whispers something too low to hear clearly. Daehyun looks between Youngjae and Himchan, coming to an understanding, and the grin slips just enough for Youngjae to notice.

Just enough for him to realize this is a chance slipping from his fingertips.

Youngjae darts away from Himchan, grabbing a pen from the counter, and scribbles his phone number into Daehyun’s palm. 

“Call me sometime if you really don’t like owing people,” Youngjae says as Himchan drags him away, muttering something about his ex flaunting some pretty thing on his arm in the living room.

Youngjae smiles at Daehyun, who stands in the middle of the kitchen eyes wide in stunned silence, his hand still held up.

//

In the following week, Youngjae honestly begins to think that he might have imagined his encounter with Daehyun. The entire memory is hazy, and he never saw Daehyun after that party.

But when Daehyun approaches Youngjae on a Wednesday afternoon while he’s eating lunch, dressed in a loose tank top and skinny jeans that lean a little too much on the _skinny_ side, Youngjae knows he didn’t imagine anything.

“You know, I really hate owing people favors. It messes me up, like, I _need_ to pay you back after you helped me out with Dickwad at that party, or I’ll never stop thinking about it,” Daehyun says. He slouches in his seat across from Youngjae, resting an arm against the back. Youngjae’s eyes trace the tattoos on Daehyun’s exposed arms.

Youngjae furrows his eyebrows. “You have my number.“

“I forgot to put it in,” Daehyun says with a shrug. “Anyway, back to the original topic.”

“You really don’t have to––“

Daehyun scowls, and that stops Youngjae from continuing.

“Actually,” Youngjae starts. He places his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand as he examines Daehyun. “How would you like to be in a movie? It’s for this film festival I have to enter. My professor won’t stop bothering me about it.”

Daehyun smiles. “That’s new. I like it. What kind of movie?”

Youngjae shrugs. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought it up. “I’m not entirely sure yet. I make documentaries, though.”

“Documentaries?” Daehyun asks, his voice tinged with a hint of disappointment. “I’m not the guy you want to make a story about.”

Youngjae tilts his head. “Why not?”

Daehyun raises an eyebrow, then motions to his tattooed arms and skinny jeans. “Do you see this? You want to make a documentary about _this_?”

“Well, I mean,” Youngjae pauses, trying to look for the right words. “What do you do?”

Daehyun purses his lips. He looks uncertain. “I’m in a band.”

“What if… What if I made something about your band? I’ll just follow you around until the end of the semester,” Youngjae says. It actually doesn’t sound that bad. His inner monologue about rising punk bands. The emergence of this generation’s counterculture and how it parallels previous ones.

“I guess that can work,” Daehyun says. He places his chin in his palm as he looks at Youngjae. “The publicity won’t hurt either.”

“See? It’s a win-win situation.” Youngjae smiles. 

Daehyun shrugs. “When do we start?”

“Would, um, tomorrow be okay with you?” Youngjae asks. He silently curses himself for stuttering.

“Let me check my schedule,” Daehyun said. He glances at his hand. “I’ll have to squeeze you in between meditational yoga and screamo therapy.”

Youngjae blinks. Is he being sarcastic? He can’t tell between the deadpan voice and stoic face.

“That was a joke,” Daehyun says. “I’m totally free tomorrow.”

Youngjae nods. He makes a mental note to differentiate between Daehyun’s _serious_ voice and _deadpan snark_ voice. “Alright then…”

“You free right now?” Daehyun asks.

Youngjae glances down at his sandwich, then back up at Daehyun.

“After lunch, I mean,” Daehyun adds.

“I’m free until 5,” Youngjae replies.

“Good, because you’re coming with me.”

Youngjae narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“To meet the other members of my band. Gotta let ‘em know we’re about to be filmed,” Daehyun says. 

“Oh,” Youngjae says. “Okay… Give me, like, ten minutes and we can go.”

Daehyun waves a hand. “Practice isn’t until 1:30.”

At 1:40, Daehyun brings Youngjae into the basement of an old apartment building. Opened cans of energy drinks stand in a pile in the corner. A half-eaten box of pizza sits on an amp. Three other young men dressed similarly to Daehyun move around the room, preparing their instruments. One tunes a bass guitar. The second one goes through a scale on a guitar. The third sits behind a drumset.

“You’re late again, hyung!” the one tuning the bass exclaims. He’s the tallest out of all of them, but the soft roundness in his features tells Youngjae that he’s probably the youngest. He glances at Youngjae before looking back at Daehyun. “New boyfriend?”

Daehyun rolls his eyes as Youngjae feels a gentle, familiar warmth flood his cheeks. “Got sidetracked––“ The tall one opens his mouth, but Daehyun quickly interrupts before he can continue. “––and he’s _not_ my boyfriend, alright?”

Junhong hums and wiggles his eyebrows, twirling a pencil in his fingers and walks away.

“Then why’s he here?” another one asks. He has a sharp gaze, somehow both judgmental and curious at the same time. 

“He’ll be filming a documentary about our band,” Daehyun replies, throwing his backpack onto a couch by the door. 

The tall one beams in excitement. The second one raises an eyebrow. The last one’s expression hardly changes, but he shows the barest hint of curiosity. 

Youngjae bows his head awkwardly. “Nice to meet you. I’m Youngjae.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re Youngjae?” the other one ask. He stands up from behind the drumset. The closer he gets to Youngjae, the more intimidating he looks. “You the guy who helped Daehyun?”

Youngjae blinks. Is he referring to the party? Youngjae nods slowly.

“Thanks for taking care of our lead singer,” the man says. He gives Youngjae a small smile, and Youngjae almost expects it to be a grimace (he can’t be more relieved when he realizes it isn’t). “I’m Yongguk, by the way.”

“Jongup,” the second one says, slinging a guitar across his front and beginning to tune it. 

“I’m Junhong,” the tall one follows, waving a lanky arm.

“And this is Warrior,” Daehyun says, motioning to them with a proud grin. He leaves Youngjae’s side to help set up the rest of the instruments. He nods to the couch. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Junhong cheers. “Sweet, we’re getting an audience today!” He winks at Youngjae, strumming a couple chords. “Enjoy the show.”

“Stop flirting with the filmmaker,” Daehyun says, his voice echoing as he speaks into the microphone. “He’s off-limits.”

Junhong lets out a howl of laughter as Jongup snorts. “We get it, you wanna do him! Won’t change the fact that I’m gonna flirt voraciously with him.”

“Wow, that’s a _big_ word for you. Did you learn that in kindergarten today?” Daehyun shoots back.

Junhong opens his mouth to retaliate, but Yongguk hits a cymbal, quieting the two. “Are we going to practice today or not?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Junhong says, but he still has a small smile on his mouth.

Daehyun faces forward, right at Youngjae, and grins. “Let’s do Piece first.”

“Ooh, that’s real romantic, especially for the first date,” Junhong says as he begins strumming his guitar.

Daehyun glances back, giving Junhong the middle finger. He begins singing as Yongguk and Jongup join in.

“You tellin’ me to keep my mouth shut,” Daehyun sings. He stares right at Youngjae, his eyes dark and lidded. “But don’t think I don’t hear you whisper ‘bout the way I fuck.”

Youngjae smiles. He can already see the film unfolding in his mind with Daehyun right at the center of it all.

//

“I’m glad you decided to sign up,” Youngjae’s professor says when he hands her his application. “I’m looking forward to your film, Youngjae.”

Youngjae just smiles as she places the application in a folder. “Thank you.”

She tilts her head as she closes the folder. “Do you have an idea for the subject?”

“I was thinking about observing, um, the emerging counterculture,” Youngjae replies. “There’s this punk band…”

Youngjae doesn’t finish because his professor is already going off about the possibilities of analyzing the reemergence of the punk subculture and how it’ll affect society if left unchecked. It’s an interesting view, and he files the idea away for future reference.

When he leaves, his phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out, surprised to see an unknown number texted him. 

_We just booked a gig. Wanna film it?_ the text reads. 

Youngjae blinks. This has to be Daehyun, right? He unlocks his phone to reply, but he stops when he gets another text.

_This is Daehyun, btw._

Youngjae grins and saves the number. He replies with a quick _Sure, just give me a time and place._

Daehyun replies almost immediately. _Echo Bar tomorrow at 9. Get ready to be blown away._

Youngjae can’t help but smile, staring at the texts. He can’t wait to film them live. He can feel the excitement flowing through his limbs down to his fingertips.

“What’s got _you_ smiling like an idiot?” 

Youngjae looks up and finds Himchan walking up to him, arms crossed and a curious quirk in his smile. Youngjae quickly pockets his phone and meets Himchan halfway. “Hey, you wanna go see a band perform tomorrow?”

Himchan tilts his head. “Depends. Are they good?”

“Good enough to book a gig in Echo Bar,” Youngjae says. “Tomorrow at 9.”

“Never pegged you for a hype man, but it doesn’t hurt to try new things.” Himchan grins. “I’ll bring a couple friends, too.”

Youngjae smiles back. He can just imagine what kind of shots he’ll be able to get tomorrow night.

//

Youngjae walks into Echo Bar with his camera slung around his neck. Echo Bar is located in the dingy basement of an old brick building, providing the perfect backdrop for Warrior’s first live performance in front of him. It’s busy this early in the night, but it looks like a promising crowd. He sits at the bar and orders a beer, watching the band run through a quick rehearsal. Daehyun stands at the stage with his back to Youngjae, talking to Junhong and holding a microphone in his hand. Jongup is the first one who notices Youngjae come in and waves him over. Daehyun turns around, smiles and waves, and turns his attention back to Junhong.

Youngjae turns on his camera, aiming it at the stage. He thinks back to what his professor said yesterday as he watches Daehyun bounce around the stage.

_It’d be interesting to analyze the reemergence of the punk subculture and how it could affect our society if left unchecked._

Daehyun catches Youngjae filming and shoots him a wink.

Youngjae smiles. He glances down at his phone to check the time. 8:49. Almost ten more minutes until they begin. He feels his stomach do flips like _he’s_ the one about to go up and perform. He takes a sip of his beer.

Five minutes before they have to perform, Daehyun jumps down from the stage and walks up to Youngjae. 

“Glad you could make it,” Daehyun says. 

And that’s where Youngjae’s memory blacks out.

The back of Youngjae's head pounds, prodding him into consciousness. He groans, his hand coming up to his forehead to try to make it stop, but it just gets worse. Even thinking makes everything worse. He feels nauseous. His mouth is drier than sandpaper. He feels like he’s going to throw up. His throat is closed up, nearly choking him out. His eyes feel like they’re about to pop right out of their sockets. He tries opening his eyes, but the outside world is too bright. He closes his eyes again, lays his arm on top, and focuses on breathing.

"Yo.”

Youngjae opens his eyes, squinting into the sunlight shining on his face. If he really forces his eyes to focus, he can kinda see the finer details in the silhouette standing above him. “Where am I?”

“My apartment. Get up, we're getting breakfast.”

Youngjae has brief flashes of a club and downing several tequila shots, but then his head throbs again before he can make any sense of it. He rubs his forehead like that’s going to make his headache go away. “What happened?”

“I'll explain after we get food.”

Youngjae feels his arms being lifted up, and he groans as his head rolls back in between his shoulders.

“Come on, you'll feel better after you eat.”

Youngjae wonders if this is the guardian angel of hangovers coming down from whatever ethereal realm to lead him to a sober oasis.

“I'm not dragging your ass outta here. _Get up_. I'm hungry.”

With a lot more effort than necessary, Youngjae manages to get on his feet. He stumbles, but he holds onto the person’s arm.

“That wasn't too hard now, was it?”

Upon further inspection, Youngjae realizes that this person, this guardian angel of hangovers, is actually Daehyun. Youngjae stands, a little dazed, and clings to Daehyun’s arm as he tries to gather his bearings.

“How drunk was I last night?” Youngjae asks.

Daehyun laughs as he leads Youngjae out of the apartment. “ _Stupid_ drunk. You handle your alcohol really well. I was kinda surprised, to be honest, because, no offense, sorry, but you don't look like someone who can.”

Youngjae hums as he follows Daehyun like a sheep following a shepherd. “So where are we getting breakfast?”

“There's this hole-in-the-wall restaurant that makes awesome omelettes.”

The “hole-in-the-wall restaurant”, Youngjae realizes when he walks inside, stands proudly at the corner of an intersection. It’s an interesting mix of modern and vintage 50’s diner. As soon as they’re seated in a cushy booth, Daehyun slumps in the seat, his arms sprawled out across the back.

“You should drink water,” Daehyun says as he looks over the menu.

Youngjae glances above the menu at Daehyun, his mind still a little hazy at the edges, then at the glass of water to his left.

“You know. The liquid in the transparent glass in front of you?” Daehyun says. He doesn’t look up, but he has a small smirk on his face.

Youngjae frowns. “I'm not stupid.”

Daehyun's smirk grows into an amused grin. “Then stop staring at it like you've never seen it before.”

Youngjae grabs the glass, scowling at Daehyun, and takes a sip. They sit in silence even after the waiter takes their orders.

Youngjae takes out his phone from his pocket, and his eyes widen at the amount of notifications that greet him from every social media app he owns. He also has several texts from Himchan with each text progressively containing a more urgent tone than the last (indicated by the most recent texts composed of all capital letters).

“What the hell…,” Youngjae mutters as he flips through mentions on Twitter. He looks up from his phone for a brief moment to see Daehyun picking at his nails. “What happened?”

Daehyun snickers. “You were pretty fucking hammered.”

“I kinda got that,” Youngjae groans. He almost downs his entire glass of water. Almost as soon as he puts his glass down a waitress swoops in and refills it. 

Daehyun tilts his head, and if Youngjae looks real hard, he swears he can see the slightest hint of disappointment behind Daehyun’s carefully neutral expression. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

Youngjae shakes his head, slow and concerned because his memory blacks out at Echo Bar. This is the first time he has a gap in his memory, and it scares him to find out what he could have done in those hours he can’t remember.

_“You ever tried loosening up just a little bit?”_

Youngjae stares into his glass of water, trying to chase a fleeting memory that dies out as soon as he latches onto it. 

“After the gig, we went bar hopping and…you got pretty fuckin’ wasted, actually,” Daehyun begins, impressed. “You hold your alcohol _real_ well. I wouldn’t have guessed, to be honest.”

“I’ve been drinking since I was sixteen,” Youngjae says. Not his proudest skill, but it’s probably relevant if he wants to keep some part of his pride.

Daehyun whistles and shakes his head. “Yeah, I wouldn’t have guessed.” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “Anyway, uh… I think you got some good footage for your documentary.”

That night, when Youngjae goes over the videos, he wants to bury himself somewhere secluded so he can die completely alone with his regrets. 

But there’s something dazzling about the way Daehyun performs. About the way _Warrior_ performs. Dazzling in the way Youngjae can’t take his eyes off the screen as Daehyun bounces around the stage and his voice rips through his throat, raw and visceral and passionate. Brilliant in the way Daehyun beckons the audience to listen to his heart, vulnerable but not weak. There’s a sort of power lying just beneath that vulnerability, and Youngjae feels his heart skip a beat.

Youngjae blinks. He realizes he may have just fallen headfirst in love. He shakes his head. That’s absurd. That stuff’s reserved solely for rom-coms and high schoolers who don’t know any better, and he knows better. 

He can’t be the main character when he’s the one behind the camera filming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bang x2? bang x2.
> 
> otherwise known as the band!au i've always wanted to write.


	2. track 2: heart (too little, too much)

“You’re welcome,” Himchan says, sipping an Americano and staring at Youngjae like a scandalized housewife who caught her husband lying about his affair.

Youngjae blinks. He wracks his mind for things Himchan did for him that he forgot to thank him for. He keeps coming up with nothing. “Um…?”

“If I didn’t bring you to that party, you wouldn’t have met Daehyun, AKA the main inspiration for your documentary,” HImchan says. He nods approvingly like he’s mentally patting himself on the back. “So you’re welcome.”

“Oh. Thanks, hyung.”

“Also,” Himchan continues, punctuating it with a finger pointed at Youngjae’s chest, “I know you’re fucking him on the side.”

Youngjae chokes on his coffee. “I’m…” He coughs and grabs a napkin to wipe any coffee that spills out of his mouth. “I’m… We’re not…”

“Keep telling yourself that, honey,” Himchan says. He sips his Americano again, his eyes knowing. “You think I don’t remember you writing your number on his hand at the party? _Please_.”

Youngjae feels his face flush. “That’s only because I helped him out with an ex and––“

Himchan raises his eyebrows, and Youngjae stops talking. He knows he’s acting defensive, but he doesn’t even know _why_. 

“Alright, so you _want_ to fuck him, and that’s _okay_ ,” Himchan says, gentle and accepting in the way Youngjae’s parents never were. He reaches out to hold Youngjae’s hand, smooth and warm. “Yoo Youngjae, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t let you fuck that hot piece of meat?”

Youngjae doesn’t know if it’s possible for his face to get even redder, but he feels intense heat rise up from the base of his chest to the tips of his ears. He wants to die.

//

“What is Warrior? To me?” Yongguk looks up at the ceiling, humming in thought and tapping the tip of his pencil against his chin. He smiles and looks back at the camera. “Youth. I’m the oldest in the band, but the other three remind me that we’re only young once. We can never go back to who we were yesterday. We’re thrust in this world, forced to live through each moment, no matter if it’s good or bad, with no chance to do anything over again. I’d rather live my life doing what I like, so when I look back, I can be proud of what I’ve done.”

Youngjae stares at Yongguk, a little stunned and mostly impressed by the amount of thought he’s put into this. 

Yongguk laughs, a little nervous, and rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, too much?”

Youngjae doesn’t even hesitate to shake his head.

//

“Let me help with that,” Youngjae says, placing his camera on one of the tables and helping Yongguk pick up the other half of the bass drum from its place on the stage.

Yongguk smiles at Youngjae, grateful. “Thanks. I got this now. Do you mind getting the snare and toms?”

“Sure,” Youngjae replies. He watches Yongguk walk through the doors, hoisting the bass drum up into his arms with the help of his knee, and then turns back to disassembled drum set. He stares at the other parts, recognizing only the cymbals. He realizes he’s completely out of his depth. “What the hell are the toms?”

“Tom-tom drums.” Daehyun comes up behind Youngjae and points out the three wider drums sitting beside each other. Then, he points to the single narrowest drum. “That’s the snare drum.”

Youngjae turns to Daehyun, moving a little to the side to let Daehyun through. “Oh… Thanks.”

Daehyun smiles at Youngjae, a little blinding. “Yeah, no problem. Let’s bring these out to the van.” Daehyun grabs two of the tom-tom drums, and Youngjae grabs the rest. “So, I was wondering.”

“Hm?” Youngjae glances at Daehyun in the corner of his eye as they begin walking towards the back exit.

Before Daehyun can continue, he’s stopped by a man who is obviously drunk. The sour scent of alcohol wafts in between them, and Youngjae immediately tenses. He steps between Daehyun and man, trying to tap into that courage he had back at the party when he first met Daehyun, but he’s coming up with nothing. 

“Hey, how about I buy you two a drink?” the man slurs.

“No thanks,” Daehyun says. He nods to Youngjae and begins to brush past the man, but he grabs onto Daehyun’s arm, and Youngjae winces at the way Daehyun’s skin molds and pales around the man’s tight grip. Daehyun looks down at his arm, frowning. “Let me go.”

“What’s wrong with getting a couple drinks? They’ll be on me,” the man says, his face inching closer to Daehyun’s. “Your friend can join us too.”

Youngjae begins to step forward, anger suddenly surging through his system. As he’s about to drop the drums to grab the man, someone places a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He looks up, the red clearing from his vision, and he sees Yongguk. Youngjae blinks, and cold fear shoots through his veins when he sees the same anger in Yongguk’s eyes, flaring white hot in his need to protect his own.

“Can I help you?” Yongguk asks, his voice colder and crueler than steel. There’s a deadly calm in the words that makes Youngjae shiver.

The man jumps, just seeing Yongguk now, and scowls. “Hey, I got here first. Wait your turn, asshole.”

Yongguk smiles, but Youngjae sees the way his hands tighten into fists at his sides, shaking hard and tight enough to turn his knuckles bone white. “What did you say?”

“Wait your turn, _asshole_ ,” the man repeats, beginning to usher Daehyun towards the tables.

Yongguk moves so fast, Youngjae barely registers any of it. One second, the man is pushing Daehyun. The next, Yongguk shoves the man against the wall, his forearm pressing into the man’s chest. Daehyun stumbles out of the way as the man splutters and drops his beer bottle to the ground.

“What the fu––“

“Didn’t you hear him say no the first time?” Yongguk whispers, rough and low.

“Man, fuck off,” the man spits out between breaths. “Let me go. I’ll leave you the fuck alone. Just… Fuckin’ let me go.”

“Hey, hey, is there a problem here?” the bartender asks, walking up to their group. He eyes the man and sighs. “Let him go, I’ll take care of him. Sorry about the trouble.”

Yongguk eases off the man, taking a couple steps back. The man shoves past the three of them, stumbling away from them, and the bartender follows him. Yongguk runs a hand through his black hair, pushing the sweaty strands out of his eyes. When he faces Youngjae and Daehyun, the anger is gone, replaced by concern.

“You okay?” Yongguk asks. He places a gentle hand on Daehyun’s shoulder.

Youngjae sees the way Daehyun flinches. He almost doesn’t notice it, but Daehyun’s breath hitches, his eyes going just a little wider than usual. In a single moment, though, he seems to gather his bearings, and he nods, smiling gratefully. 

“Thanks, hyung,” Daehyun says.

Yongguk squeezes Daehyun’s shoulder once before patting his back. He grabs the tom-tom drums from Daehyun’s arms and tucks them under his own. “I got this. Can you grab my cymbals?”

“Sure,” Daehyun replies.

Yongguk turns to Youngjae. “Let’s go put these in the van.”

Youngjae follows Yongguk outside, questions swirling in his mind, but he knows it isn’t his place to ask. Not yet, at least.

When Youngjae goes over the videos that night, he’s surprised to find that the last one is a recording of the whole incident. Though, the thing that catches his attention the most is the way Daehyun’s eyes gloss over, his face going completely blank like his soul left his body. Youngjae can’t help but watch with equal parts fascination and concern.

//

“Another me.” Junhong tunes his guitar, strumming a chord, then looks back up at Youngjae and the camera. He laughs when he sees the confused expression on Youngjae’s face. “Like a second version of myself. Warrior lets me be someone else… Someone I can be proud of.”

Youngjae tilts his head. “Are you not proud of yourself currently?”

Junhong purses his lips, his fingers stilling on the bass, then he shrugs. “I mean… Not necessarily. I’m just trying to live up to my own expectations, not anyone else’s, you know?”

//

“Nice solo!” Daehyun exclaims when the song ends, hitting Junhong in the back.

Junhong beams, and Youngjae thinks if he were a dog, his tail would be wagging so hard, his ass wouldn’t be able to keep up.

“If we all just keep this up, we’ll be booking bigger venues in no time,” Daehyun says to the entire band. 

“Okay, one more song, and we’ll end practice for today,” Yongguk says.

“Wait, sorry!” Junhong hastily places his bass on the stand and bolts for the bathroom. “I gotta piss!”

“That’s the fourth time you’ve had to go this whole session!” Daehyun exclaims. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Sorry I like to stay hydrated, you dry motherfucker!” Junhong shoots back.

Daehyun scoffs as Junhong slams the bathroom door closed. “It’s not my fault you’re a thirsty hoe!”

“I wonder if he’s okay, though,” Jongup says, sitting on the amp and glancing at the bathroom door.

Daehyun rolls his eyes. “For such a tall person, he’s got the _tiniest_ bladder.”

Someone’s phone begins ringing on the table in front of Youngjae, a cheery electronic chiptune resounding throughout the room. He glances at the glowing screen, furrowing his eyebrows at the contact name. 

_Birth Giver_ , the name reads.

“Junhong, your phone is ringing!” Daehyun says, grabbing his water bottle beside the pile of phones. Junhong bursts from the bathroom, wiping his wet hands on his pants and practically diving for his phone. Daehyun wiggles his eyebrows before Junhong answers it. “Is it your girlfriend?”

“Hey, Mom, what’s up?” Junhong says, glaring at Daehyun. He walks off to the side, speaking in hushed tones. 

The room goes quiet as Junhong speaks to his mother. Youngjae puts his camera on the table, and it just so happens to face Junhong. He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but if he strains his ears, is that his fault?

“M-Mom, I’ll be back in…” Junhong sighs. “Mom, it’s just––“

Junhong’s shoulders slump, making him look smaller than he really is. Youngjae has a feeling he knows where this conversation is going.

Junhong clenches his free hand into a tight fist, and anger flares up in his eyes, indignant and fiery rebellion, but it’s gone just as soon as it appears. He visibly deflates, leaning a shoulder against the wall. “Alright. I’ll be home in thirty minutes.”

Junhong ends the call and comes back to the group. He begins throwing his things into his backpack, and it’s obvious he’s disappointed about leaving. No one says anything, not even Daehyun who’s usually the first to tease Junhong. There’s a tension that hangs heavy in the air.

“I gotta go, guys,” Junhong says, slinging his backpack across his shoulders. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. See you next week,” Yongguk replies as everyone else says their goodbyes.

“Let me walk you to the bus stop,” Youngjae says. He feels everyone’s eyes on him, but he presses on. “Do you mind if I just ask you a couple questions? If that’s alright with you?”

Junhong shrugs. “Sure, why not?”

Youngjae brings his camera and follows Junhong out. They walk in silence for the first few minutes. Youngjae struggles to find a good pace to keep up with Junhong’s longer stride, practically jogging just to stay beside him.

“So… That was your mom?” Youngjae starts, unsure where else to begin.

Junhong laughs, somewhere between joking and sarcastic. “If these are the questions you’re gonna ask, I dunno if your documentary is gonna be any good.”

“Does she not approve of you being in the band?” Youngjae asks. “Also, you’re walking real fast, and your one step is like five of mine.”

“Oh… Sorry.” Junhong slows down to a more reasonable pace and sighs. “Yeah… She never liked the fact I’m in a band. I’m majoring in performing arts, guitar emphasis.” He snorts. “Sorry, _classical_ guitar.”

Youngjae was never aware there was a classical aspect to guitar, but he’s learning new things everyday with Warrior. “Do you know why she doesn’t like you being in Warrior?”

“Fuck if I know,” Junhong replies. He purses his lips. “She’s always been pushing me to do this, do that, and it’s usually fine, but the moment I begin trying to make my own decisions, I’m suddenly _‘acting out’_ and _‘going through a phase’_.”

Youngjae hums. He knows that feeling well.

Junhong lets out an aggravated groan. “It’s not like I hate her or anything. I appreciate everything she’s done for me, it’s just… It’s a little frustrating when I got no one to listen to me, you know?”

They reach the bus stop, but it’s another couple minutes before it comes up. Youngjae switches off the camera and lets it hang from his neck. He looks up at Junhong, unsurprised to find a sullen look on Junhong’s face.

“Does your mom know about the performances?” he asks.

“Off the record?” Junhong asks, eyeing the camera warily.

“Off the record,” Youngjae confirms with a nod.

“She doesn’t know about the performances. I just tell her I have late night cramming sessions with some classmates.” He glares at the darkening sky, like he’s silently cursing his life. “She doesn’t even think we’re good enough to book a gig.”

Youngjae hums again. He never thought Junhong was having problems at home. He always seems so carefree, but Youngjae knows everyone has at least a couple masks they slip between depending on the people they’re with.

//

“Warrior is my second family,” Jongup replies, smiling fondly. He looks down at the table, his fingers almost trembling, and the smile slowly falls from his lips. Youngjae almost stops the recording, but Jongup speaks up again, a little quieter than before. “I… My father was abusive. When I met Daehyun in high school, he helped me until I was old enough to move out, and then he just…kept helping me. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have been able to leave.”

Jongup draws in a deep breath, shaky as he lets it go.

“Why did you join Warrior?” Youngjae asks, voice soft and careful. He knows he’s walking a fine line, and he’s ready to stop recording as soon as Jongup asks. 

Jongup doesn’t say anything for a moment, instead taking another deep breath. “Daehyun asked me to join, and…it’s not like I felt like I owed him, but it felt right… I don’t have to worry about not belonging in Warrior.”

//

This is the second time Youngjae enters Daehyun’s apartment that he shares with Jongup, and he’s finally taking in all the details he couldn’t when he was completely blinded by his hangover. On the outside, the building looks like it’s just barely passing health inspections. Long brown streaks of rust from the fire escape run down walls of peeling vomit-colored paint. The apartment is nicer on the inside than it is on the outside, though, with clean walls and shiny hardwood flooring. To the left is a small kitchenette with dirty dishes overflowing the sink. To the right sits a leather couch bursting at the seams, a dusty boom box in the corner with a small pile of CDs, and a tiny coffee table made of wooden crates and several planks of wood. Beside the tiny coffee table is a laptop sitting atop an even tinier tower of crates.

It’s definitely a roof over their heads.

Daehyun signals to the laptop. “This is our main hub of operations, Jongup’s used laptop. Ancient and the processing speed is slow as _fuck_ , but it does just enough for us to keep it around.”

“I’d appreciate it if you stopped shitting on my baby,” Jongup says, coming out of a room, probably the bedroom. He towels his hair dry and comes up to pet the side of the screen. “He didn’t mean that, babe, don’t listen to him.”

Daehyun rolls his eyes and nods for Youngjae to follow him into the kitchen. Youngjae sets up his camera on the counter as Daehyun looks inside the fridge. 

“You want anything to drink?” Daehyun asks.

“Water is fine, thanks,” Youngjae replies, sitting at the counter. He finds it endearing how none of the furniture matches. It makes the apartment feel more lived-in, warmer, a little more like a home.

“How did you and Jongup end up getting an apartment together?” Youngjae asks.

Daehyun grabs two cups from the dish rack and gets water from the tap. “We’ve been living together for a while.”

“How long is ‘a while’?” Youngjae nods his thanks as Daehyun places the cups on the counter.

Daehyun looks up at the ceiling in thought, narrowing his eyes. “Um… High school?”

“Junior year,” Jongup adds from the bedroom.

“Yeah, I’ve known Jongup since high school. We used to––“ Daehyun snickers. “––we used to pull the sickest pranks. Got into a ton of trouble, but what were we supposed to do? Everybody gave up on us as soon as our grades slipped below the average. We had no plan for the future, but look at where we are now. Living farther than we thought we’d ever get.”

Youngjae furrows his eyebrows. “You didn’t think you’d make it into college?”

Daehyun shrugs. “Didn’t think I’d even make it outta high school. At least Jongup _tried_. He got decent grades and easily got into the same music academy as Yongguk-hyung on a scholarship. Me? I worked at a music shop a couple bus stops away. There wasn’t anything redeemable about me.”

Youngjae hears something bitter in Daehyun’s words, like he’s been told that one too many times, and he’s absolutely sick of it. He turns the cup of water in his fingers, glaring into the cup. 

“But you’re here now.” Youngjae and Daehyun turn to find Jongup reaching into the fridge to pull out an energy drink. “Your life isn’t defined by a transcript and diploma. You’re probably already miles ahead of everyone else still in college, so shut the fuck up.”

Daehyun stares at Jongup, wide-eyed and stunned into silence. “What?”

“I just think it’s bullshit that we value a person based only on their academic achievements when there’s _so_ much more to a person than that.” He pops open the drink, taking a sip, and then seems to remember that they’ve been recording. “Oh shit… Sorry for interrupting.” He walks out of the kitchen and back into his room. 

Daehyun’s gaze lingers on Jongup before slowly moving back to the cup. He’s subdued now, careful breaths and suppressed emotions.

“Daehyun?” Youngjae asks, not sure if he should reach out.

Daehyun blinks, then looks at Youngjae. “Jongup told you about before, right? What happened before he met me?”

Youngjae nods.

“He’s told me before that I saved him, but who knows where _I’d_ be if we didn’t meet?” Daehyun suddenly grins. “Probably still in that music shop, struggling to make rent.” He laughs quietly, but there’s something in his eyes that tells Youngjae it isn’t a joke. “Probably dead.”

Youngjae looks back to Jongup’s room, the door left slightly ajar, and he wonders if Jongup can hear Daehyun.

//

Daehyun bursts into the practice room with his phone in his hand, breathless and wide-eyed like he just ran the length of the Han River and back. He stops in front of everyone, his eyes sparkling. “Guess where we’re performing next month?!”

Yongguk looks up from his phone. “Where?”

“The Niche Club!” Daehyun replies. 

Junhong leaps up from the couch and goes to grab Daehyun’s shoulders. “Real shit?! We’re performing at the Niche Club?!”

Daehyun nods, his grin only growing wider.

“What’s the Niche Club?” Youngjae asks. 

“It’s the biggest club in Gangnam with a two hundred person capacity,” Jongup replies. His smile turns almost nostalgic. “It’s so much bigger than our first show.”

The other three members nod in agreement.

“What was your very first show like?” Youngjae asks. 

“Not too good,” Jongup replies as he wipes the sweat forming on his brow.

Youngjae catches the others shake their heads, but they’re all smiling. “How so?”

“We were a hot fucking mess,” Daehyun says with a laugh. “We only had five songs. That’s like, what, barely fifteen minutes? And we couldn’t cover anything other than a handful of popular songs. A hot mess.”

Yongguk nods. “We’d only been practicing for a couple months.”

“I joined a couple weeks after the first show, though,” Junhong pipes up.

“Yeah, I used to play bass before Junhong.” Daehyun takes a water bottle sitting on one of the amps and chugs half of it. “ _Complete_ shit at it, by the way.”

“Yeah, you are,” Junhong says with a snort. “I would’ve _saved_ that first show.”

“There were only ten people in the audience, Junhong,” Yongguk says. 

Jongup laughs, a little quiet. “Two of them were the bartenders.”

“So basically, yeah, a hot fuckin’ mess,” Daehyun says. He looks back at the other members and steps up to the microphone. “Alright, let’s practice our setlist! First off is Tattooed.”

Youngjae watches the sweat roll down Daehyun’s temple, his heart thrumming in anticipation. The weather outside has been getting colder, but their practice room stays consistently warm throughout (Youngjae can only imagine it in the summer). He drowns in the guitar riffs, the beat of the drum, and the way Daehyun croons into the microphone.

As Warrior’s performance at the Niche Club draws closer, practices become longer and more frequent. Youngjae finds himself spending more time in that basement, and he loses track of the hours and days and weeks.

Suddenly, the concert has arrived and the deadline to submit his film is next week.

Youngjae isn’t stressed. He’s just…extremely inconvenienced at the moment. He goes to the Niche Club anyway.

“Have you seen the crowd inside? It’s _massive_ ,” Junhong whispers as Youngjae walks through the back door entrance backstage. 

“Yeah, it’s a lot,” Youngjae replies, both amazed and intimidated. Since fall started, he’s seen this band bring in a little under fifty people to filling up a massive club in the span of about five months. There’s something astonishing about the power they hold to draw in a crowd this big, this fast.

Daehyun bounces around backstage, flitting from one station to the other. He’s practically buzzing with excitement. He stops at a table with some food laid out, picks at the candy, and walks up to Youngjae with a proud grin. 

“This is great! We actually get a snack table,” Daehyun says in between bites. Before he can say anything else, Yongguk calls him over. “Yeah, I’ll be right there!” He swallows the rest of his candy and looks back at Youngjae. “You mind sticking around after the show? I wanna talk to you.”

Youngjae blinks. “Oh… Okay. Just find me, then.”

Daehyun grins and salutes before jogging off to meet Yongguk.

Youngjae figures he might as well go out and watch the opening act. He walks out onto the main floor and spots Himchan in the crowd. He eventually makes his way through the undulating mass beside Himchan.

“The opening act is almost done,” Himchan says. “Where have you been?”

“Greeting the band,” Youngjae replies, not even trying to keep the smug tone out of his voice.

Himchan claps as the song ends. “Must be nice being their cameraman.”

And Youngjae is hit by a breathtaking realization that once he’s done filming Warrior, he won’t be able to spend any more time with them in quite the same way. He realizes this, and he suddenly knows he doesn’t want that. 

His thoughts drown out the shouts and screams that erupt from the crowd as Yongguk, Jongup, and Junhong emerge from backstage. He barely has enough time to pull out his camera and film Daehyun run out onto the stage, feeding off the audience’s energy just as much as he’s giving out.

“We are Warrior! You fucks ready for this?!” Daehyun shouts into the microphone. He’s met with an equally loud response.

Youngjae blinks, and when he looks up at the stage, it feels like Daehyun is staring straight at him, glowing in the spotlights, and he can’t take his eyes off Daehyun. He realizes he doesn’t want to.

//

After the show, Daehyun grabs onto Youngjae’s elbow and leads him out to the back alley. It’s quiet, and Youngjae’s ears are still ringing. The only lights that surround them are the dim neon signs that flicker every other second. They cast soft shadows on Daehyun’s face. It almost feels like they stepped into another world.

“Sorry, I know you told me you wanted to talk, but I just realized I never got the chance to ask you yet,” Youngjae says, turning on his camera. “What is Warrior to you?”

Daehyun grins. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me this. You’ve been asking everyone else, and I was beginning to feel a little left out.”

Youngjae raises an eyebrow. “The lead singer? Feeling left out? That’s surprising… So, what is Warrior to you?”

“Um… You know how the hips are important to a person, right? It’s the center of your body, and it’s so important that you can’t do anything if it’s hurt. That’s what Warrior is to me. My center,” Daehyun says, kicking at the dirt beneath the soles of his boots. When he speaks again, he doesn’t look into the camera, and he’s much quieter, almost like he’s forgotten the camera was ever there and it’s just him and Youngjae. “I’d be nothing without Warrior.”

“What do you mean?” Youngjae asks, just as quiet. His finger hovers above the camera’s record button, stuck between stopping the recording or keeping it going because suddenly, this feels a lot more intimate than just an interview. 

Daehyun looks up again, and Youngjae sees every uncertainty and worry and self-doubt melt away to be replaced with a wide smile, but it’s duller than before, the brilliance not quite as bright as it used to be. “You know what I’ve always dreamed for Warrior?”

“What is it?” Youngjae asks, moving his finger away from the button. 

“That we come outta this okay,” Daehyun replies, reaching up to the stars with his right hand. “You hear all these stories about bands that get lost in chasing their dreams and then they just…get snuffed out as easy as a candlelight.” He lowers his hand and looks back at the camera, his eyes burning bright with determination. “I won’t let that happen to Warrior.”

Youngjae is silent, and the only sounds that fills the space between them are the rumbling of nearby cars and idle chatter from people outside the alley. 

Daehyun breaks out into a wide smile, the dull edge completely gone and replaced with childish glee. “Did I look cool?”

Youngjae stops recording and lowers the camera, smiling in disbelief. “How can you go from talking about something so serious to asking ‘ _did I look cool?’_ ”

Daehyun laughs, and it bends him at the waist, taking over his entire body. “Gotta look cool for your movie, you know?” His laugh fades out like a vibrato played for too long. He faces Youngjae again, taking a deep breath. “So…”

“So,” Youngjae repeats. He wants to say he knows where this is going, but he doesn’t know, and that scares him.

“I like you,” Daehyun says. He looks Youngjae directly in the eyes, that same determination returning just as strong as before. 

Youngjae stares at Daehyun, stunned and a little embarrassed because as much as he loves the idea of dating Daehyun, he’d also like to kill him in this moment because the deadline to submit his film is next week and he hasn’t even gotten around to editing the whole thing and––

“You couldn’t have waited until _after_ I finished this fucking thing?!” is all Youngjae can manage to blurt out. 

Hurt flashes across Daehyun’s face, and Youngjae wants to feel bad, but he’s stressed and on a deadline and he just _can’t_ bring himself to care nearly as much as he should.

“You don’t… You don’t have to respond to me now… I just had to tell you because––“ 

And Youngjae is pretty sure that in all the time he’s gotten to know Daehyun, this is the first time he’s seen Daehyun look hesitant, scared even.

Daehyun takes a deep breath. “I had to get it off my chest. I don’t mind waiting until you’re ready.”

Youngjae brings his bottom lip into his teeth. “I… I need to go edit this. I’ll, uh, see you later, Daehyun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i use the “what is b.a.p to you?” answers from their profiles on itsbap.com? you fuckin know it.


	3. track 3: hold fast

“You fucking _what_?!” Himchan nearly shouts.

Youngjae flinches, not so much from the volume, but from the sheer intensity and surprise emanating from Himchan. “W-what?”

“You brushed off the guy you’ve been trying to fuck for months?!” Himchan exclaims. He pounds a fist on Youngjae’s kitchen table. “Yoo Youngjae, literal _months_! He tells you he likes you and you–– You just… You just _leave_?!”

Youngjae buries his head in his hands with a groan. He should have known Himchan would never let him live this down. “Listen… It wasn’t… I was…” He groans again, slumping back into his seat. “I’m stressed! _Stressed_ , hyung! Over a hundred hours of footage to go through and fit into a sixty minute documentary that I _still_ have to edit, and then he… He just… ‘I like you’. Like… Who the _hell_ does he think he is?!”

Himchan’s eyebrows raise far up into his forehead, his mouth hanging open in awe. He quickly recollects himself and says, “This isn’t the reaction I was expecting from you.”

“I’m not _mad_ or anything!” Youngjae exclaims, throwing his arms in the air. “I’m just…” The noise that comes out of his mouth verges between another groan and a scream. 

He was just supposed to film them. Getting _this_ involved wasn’t part of the equation.

//

_It’d be interesting to analyze the reemergence of the punk subculture and how it could affect our society if left unchecked._

Youngjae stares at his laptop screen, completely stumped. Everything he filmed is going in an entirely different direction than he imagined. He either has to break down his thesis and rebuild it completely from the ground up, or go on with editing and come out with a half-assed documentary. 

He sighs, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. He doesn’t have enough time to come up with a new thesis, but he refuses to release some half-assed documentary. He can’t imagine the criticism he’ll get if he does that.

“Youngjae, how’s your film coming along?” his professor asks, and he doesn’t miss the expectant tone in her voice, waiting for him to drop a teaser.

Youngjae smiles as he closes his laptop and turns in his chair to face her. “I’m still editing, but it’s coming along.”

“How was working with that punk band?” she asks, crossing her arms above her chest. “I’d imagine it was quite difficult? Having to deal with a group of misfits and all.”

Youngjae feels something sour and vile rise up in his gut. He doesn’t like the way she talks about them––like they’re a bunch of outcasts needing reform. Like they’re going to grow out of this phase anyway. Like she’s completely discrediting everything they’ve accomplished because it’s something she sees as merely temporary. As ephemeral as the spotlights that shine down on them.

But Youngjae can’t find it in himself to blame her because she doesn’t even realize she’s looking down on their ambitions. 

He realizes, with immense guilt, that he thought the same way–– _exactly_ the same way––until he worked with Warrior. It scares him. It scares him that he could think so negatively about a group of people he never would have gotten to know under different circumstances.

Something clicks in Youngjae’s mind. He looks back up at his professor, not even remembering when he looked down. “Sorry, but I really should get back to editing.

She smiles at him and nods. “Best of luck, Youngjae.”

Youngjae finishes packing up his things and hurries out of the computer lab. Maybe it’s a little rough around the edges right now, but he thinks he has a new thesis he can actually work with.

//

Over the next few days, Youngjae works on his documentary until he’s pretty sure Daehyun’s smile is embedded behind his eyelids and all he can hear are Warrior’s songs. When he emerges from the haze of editing that leaves him exhausted with dry, red-rimmed eyes demanding sleep, all he can think about is Daehyun. He pushes away from his desk and closes his laptop after he submits his film an hour before the deadline.

He glances at his clock, and is relieved to see it’s only 11 PM. If he remembers correctly, Warrior is performing at Matoki Club tonight. If he hurries, he’ll be able to make it as they finish their last song. He downs the rest of his Red Bull/coffee mix, and rushes out of his apartment. He _has_ to give Daehyun an answer before it’s too late. He’s made Daehyun wait long enough.

By 11:43 PM, Youngjae runs up to Matoki Club, narrowly avoiding the LED masked bunny head blinking out front as he rounds the corner. The sounds of cheers and Warrior’s music blasting through the speakers reach his ears. They just finished Piece, the last song of their setlist. He walks up to the door, ready to yank it open.

“Hey, wait, where do you think you’re going?” the bouncer asks, stopping Youngjae and not-so-gently shoving him away from the door. 

Youngjae stumbles backwards a couple steps before regaining his balance. “I’m, um, here to see my friends.”

The bouncer shakes his head, crossing his arms above his chest. “Nope. Sorry, can’t let you in just yet. Full house tonight.”

Youngjae hears the tone of finality in the bouncer’s voice, but he pushes forward anyway. “Come on, you can’t just let one more person inside? I _have_ to get in there, man.”

“No can do. Wouldn’t be fair to the other people waiting to get in.” The bouncer nods his head towards the crowd of people standing in line against the wall a few feet away. 

Youngjae finally feels their eyes on him. He grits his teeth. There’s no more music, just the roaring crowd inside. He’ll have to find another way in. He throws his hands up in surrender, and backs away. “Alright, _fine_ , I’ll go.”

The bouncer glares suspiciously as Youngjae, but he doesn’t say anything else. Youngjae shoves his hands into his pockets, fighting back a shiver as he circles around to the back of the club. His heart rate is skyrocketing, and he’s probably running just on pure adrenaline and his Red Bull-and-coffee infusion, but he feels like he can perceive everything in perfect clarity. 

Perfect clarity meaning he stumbles right into Jongup and Junhong carrying their guitar cases to the van. 

“Oh _shit_ , sorry––“ Junhong stops when he realizes it’s Youngjae in front of him, and Youngjae expects a pair of smiles and excited _oh hey wassup_ , not matching frowns that send a chill straight down Youngjae’s spine. 

“Hey. What are you doing here?” Jongup asks, but his gaze is no less piercing than Junhong’s.

Youngjae gulps, and suddenly he’s confused and scared. His thoughts come to a stuttering halt as the gears get stuck on their cold attitudes. “I’m, uh… Where’s Daehyun?”

Junhong shrugs and continues towards the van with Jongup behind him. Youngjae stands in the alleyway, awkward and lost. His heart is racing again, and it’s actually starting to hurt. Did he do something wrong? He wracks his mind for something, _anything_ , to confirm his suspicions, but he can’t think of anything––besides blowing Daehyun off the night he confessed, which––he’ll admit–– _was_ kind of a dick move on his part, but enough to elicit a response like _this_?

Junhong breezes past him back into the club without another glance. 

Youngjae stays rooted to the ground, stuck between choosing to leave or looking for Daehyun himself. People flood out of the club’s front entrance, their buzzed chatter filling the night air. He brings his bottom lip in between his teeth. When Daehyun walks out carrying one of Yongguk’s drums, Youngjae immediately steps towards him, blindly reaching out for guidance.

When Daehyun sees Youngjae, he tenses up, his eyes widening just a fraction in surprise. He quickly collects himself, an expression that’s carefully neutral taking over his face. “What are you doing here?”

And in all the time that Youngjae has known Daehyun, he realizes with cold fear shooting through his veins that he’s never heard Daehyun speak to him like that before. “Daehyun, wha… What’s going on?”

Daehyun drops the drums into the back of the van, and he spins around again to face Youngjae, anger swelling and burning white hot behind his eyes. “What’s going on? Yoo Youngjae, what…” Daehyun takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a beat before opening them again. He speaks again, a little calmer. “What was your documentary about?”

“What?” Youngjae asks as his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach. Why is Daehyun bringing this up now? “Daehyun, what are you…saying?”

Daehyun grits his teeth like he’s holding back. “What I’m saying is… You never wanted to tell our story, did you? Not Warrior’s, at least. It was always about how this is all gonna pass like… Like none of this really mattered.”

The pounding in Youngjae’s chest spreads further out the longer Daehyun talks. “No… No, it’s not… I mean, at first maybe, but… Where did you hear this?”

Daehyun visibly deflates, the anger dissipating into the chilled air until all that’s left is disappointment. “You–– You won’t even deny it?”

Youngjae bites his bottom lip because how can he even begin to lie at this point? “Daehyun, no, it… I guess it _was_ at first, but not anymore, okay? Just––“

The anger surges again like a solar flare rising up into the depths of inky black space. “Oh, so it really was supposed to be this _big_ fuckin’ circle jerk between you and your goddamn movie buffs. You were just filming us like we were, what, a bunch of animals in the wild, right? That’s what your entire thing was about, wasn’t it?!”

Youngjae frowns, feeling that same frustration begin to well up inside him despite the other, more rational part of his brain shouting at him not to. “You know what, fine, if you won’t listen to me, then _yes_ , my whole goddamn documentary was about how you and the rest of Warrior will burn out in a couple years because that’s what rockstars _do_ , right? Isn’t that what you told me before?!”

Daehyun blinks, and suddenly the alleyway is too quiet. The air is still tense, and Youngjae draws in deep breaths, but he feels like he wants to cry. The second those words came out of his mouth, he wanted to take them back, but they hang heavy in the air regardless. This isn’t what he wanted when he came here. Daehyun glares at Youngjae, his jaw set.

“You know what, fuck you,” Daehyun says, heading into the van. “I hope your movie was worth it.”

Youngjae doesn’t even realize everyone else has already piled into the van, pointedly avoiding looking at him. He sees Yongguk reach out towards Daehyun’s shoulder, patting it comfortingly. Youngjae tries to ignore the hand that comes up to wipe Daehyun’s cheek. He feels his heart ache and his stomach churn with poisonous anxiety.

Once the van is out of sight, Youngjae pulls his phone out of his pocket, calling the only person he knows would understand.

“Youngjae?” Himchan answers after the second ring, voice coarse and scratchy. “It’s fucking _midnight_. Why are you calling me?”

No matter how hard Youngjae tries, he can’t stop the tears that are already spilling from his eyes as everything drains from his system. “Hyung, I fucked up.”

There’s the sound of rustling and the jangling of keys, and Himchan is saying, “I’m coming to pick you up. Where are you?” before Youngjae can even continue.

Forty minutes later, Youngjae sits at Himchan’s kitchen table, a little calmer, but his breath hitches with every inhale. He groans, burying his head in his hands. He feels Himchan place a warm hand on his shoulder, his thumb rubbing soothing circles along the bone. 

“I fucked up real bad this time, hyung,” Youngjae says, his voice muffled.

“Yeah, you kinda did,” Himchan replies with a sigh. He stands up and heads into the kitchen to fetch a bottle of soju.

Youngjae sniffs, resting his head on the table. “Reassuring.”

Himchan scoffs as he pulls two cups from his cabinet. He walks back to the table and places everything down. “Did you want me to tell you otherwise? Because that’d be a lie and we know it.”

“Hyung, you’re supposed to tell me that I can fix this. That everything is gonna be _okay_ ,” Youngjae whines. He knows there’s a chance that Daehyun and the rest of Warrior won’t forgive him. There’s also a chance that they’ll kill him with every single one of their instruments, but he’s still hoping he’ll be able to tell them that he didn’t mean what he said.

“I can’t guarantee that. You better hope they’re forgiving people because I don’t know how you can recover from…you know. Because if it were me, I’d have thrown you to the curb,” Himchan says as he pours the soju. He places one cup in front of Youngjae.

Youngjae groans again, and he closes his eyes, fighting the tears that threaten to spill over. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

Himchan hums as he sips from his own cup. “Hopefully not, but maybe if you sound sincere enough, they’ll let you off with a broken leg.”

Youngjae has never felt more guilty about his choices in life. He thought he knew better, but apparently not. This is what he gets for believing he could be the main character in a story that was never his to begin with. 

//

Youngjae spends the rest of the semester listless, which is thankfully only two weeks until finals. He throws himself into studying for his exams, anything to distract him from the heavy weight pressing into his chest during every waking moment. He’s been trying to build up the courage to talk to Daehyun again, but every time he stares at his empty message box, at the tiny blinking blue cursor, he backs out. He doesn’t know what to say that will make him sound sincere enough, and God knows he’ll only make things worse if he tries to _call_.

So, Youngjae is stuck in a miserable spiral of self-pity and regret. He’ll admit this isn’t his best month.

“Youngjae, may I speak with you?”

Youngjae finishes packing his things and walks down to the podium as the rest of the class files out. “Yes, Ms. Lee?”

“I saw your film, and… I must say, it went in a different direction than I expected,” she says. “Not to say that it’s bad, but it’s not your usual style.”

Youngjae smiles, ignoring the way his heart pounds painful in his chest. This is exactly what he was afraid of, but what’s the use in worrying now? He already put it out there. “I wanted to try something a little different.”

She beams. “It was excellent regardless, though I think you portray them through quite the rose-colored lens, don’t you think?”

And Youngjae feels something in him snap. He realizes this whole time he’s been influenced by what his own professor had to say about this. His early thesis had her fingerprints all over it. “Ms. Lee, what exactly were you expecting when I submitted this film?”

She furrows her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“What were you expecting when I submitted this film?” Youngjae repeats. “Because from what you’re telling me––no, what you’ve _been_ telling me––is that you expected a bunch of young men who’ve hit rock bottom hanging onto the coattails of your hard-earned money. You didn’t expect to see them working their asses off to be recognized in a society that only sees them as trash because they refuse to follow a certain path, did you, Ms. Lee?”

She pales, her eyes going wide, and Youngjae knows he hit the nail on the head. “Yoo Youngjae, what on _earth_ …”

“They deserve more than the labels you assigned them,” Youngjae nearly spits. He tries to keep the venom out of his voice when he quickly adds, “It’s been a pleasure taking your class.” He bows deeply before turning to head out. His heart is beating hard enough to echo through his eardrums, and as the door closes behind him, he takes a moment to just breathe.

“Hey.”

Youngjae jumps when he sees a young man leaning on the wall across the hallway, his arms crossed above his chest. He stares for a couple seconds because who _is_ this man, and then he realizes with equal amounts horror and surprise that the man is Yongguk. He didn’t recognize him in the casual ash gray blazer and slightly-looser-than-skin-tight jeans, and he realizes that he’s never seen Yongguk outside of his Warrior persona. It almost scares Youngjae how… _normal_ Yongguk looks without makeup and ripped clothing.

And then Youngjae realizes that this is _Yongguk_ standing across from him, and he almost begins to run away. 

“No, wait, please don’t run,” Yongguk says, pushing away from the wall and holding a hand out like he’s trying to placate a scared animal, and Youngjae won’t deny that he definitely feels like one. “I just want to talk.”

Youngjae swallows the terrified lump in his throat as he slowly faces Yongguk. “Oh… Okay. Um, sure.”

“Are you busy?” Yongguk asks. 

“No. I’m done for today,” Youngjae replies, and he realizes that maybe he should have lied in case Yongguk wants to drag him somewhere to kill him.

“Do you want to get a coffee with me? It won’t take too long, promise,” Yongguk says, signaling towards the exit. 

Youngjae blinks, trying hard not to fall back on his fight or flight instincts. “Yeah, sure, okay.”

“Cool, let’s go?” Yongguk begins walking, and Youngjae tries _real_ hard not to compare this to a prison guard walking an inmate to his execution.

The walk towards the student union building is terrifyingly quiet. Yongguk is already a pretty silent guy, but paired with Youngjae’s imminent meltdown makes him want to implode. Thankfully, it’s not a long walk, and in ten minutes, they’re sitting at the Starbucks inside, holding steaming cups of coffee. Youngjae brings his coffee to his lips, but he ends up burning his tongue, and he coughs as he waits for the burning pain to subside.

“You probably know what I want to talk to you about, right?” Yongguk says. He turns his cup in his hands, but Youngjae catches the smallest tremor in his fingertips, and he wants to say it’s because of the cold, but it’s probably because Yongguk is holding back a rain of punches aimed right at Youngjae. “I just wanted to know the full story before––“

“You kill me, right?” Youngjae whispers. He can’t even bring himself to look into Yongguk’s eyes because Yongguk is just _that_ much more intimidating.

Yongguk smiles, a little amused. “No.”

That doesn’t help Youngjae, but he hopes anyway.

“I was passing by your classroom, and sorry for eavesdropping, but I couldn’t help it,” Yongguk begins. He pauses like he’s looking for the right words to say. “You didn’t mean what you said that night, did you?”

Youngjae feels his face flood with heat, and he sighs as he slumps down even farther. “ _God_ no. I didn’t mean _any_ of it. I was confused and, honest to god, real _fucking_ scared, and I know that’s not an excuse and maybe a shit explanation, but I didn’t know what to do when Daehyun confronted me. I won’t lie, the documentary started out going in that direction, but the finished film is _far_ from what you guys probably think, I _swear_. I care about you guys.” Youngjae takes a deep breath, and he swallows the lump in his throat again. _I care about Daehyun_ , he wants to add, but he bites his tongue.

Yongguk stays silent for another beat. Youngjae wants the plush seat cushions to swallow him whole. He can’t stand this.

“I had a feeling you weren’t like that,” Yongguk says with a small smile.

Youngjae sees the relief reflected in Yongguk’s eyes, and it feels like a weight is lifted off his chest. “How did…you guys find out?”

“Your professor––Lee, right? I was with Jongup when we passed by her office. She was talking on the phone with someone about your film, actually,” Yongguk replies, looking down at his lap, almost embarrassed for a beat, before continuing. “She said your thesis was focused on how ‘the emergence of Warrior is the beginning of societal decay’, in her words.”

Youngjae’s stomach drops to the floor. His blood runs ice cold as he realizes just how awful that sounds.

“I wasn’t going to tell Daehyun because I knew how he was going to react, but you know Jongup.” Yongguk sighs, shaking his head. “It’s been a mess during practice. None of them can focus.”

“I’m sorry,” Youngjae says, bowing his head. He doesn’t know what else to say other than that. What else _can_ he say? “I’m so sorry.”

Yongguk reaches out to rest a warm hand on Youngjae’s shoulder, and Youngjae jumps up in surprise. “It’s not entirely your fault, so don’t beat yourself up over it.”

And Youngjae just wants to cry all over again because he didn’t expect Yongguk, of _all_ people, to be the first one to forgive him.

“It’ll take the others a little longer to find it in themselves to forgive you, but they will eventually,” Yongguk says with a soft smile. He leans back in his chair, sipping his coffee, and Youngjae wonders how this saint of a man has lived like this for so long.

But Youngjae wants––no, he _needs_ ––to know the answer to the question that’s been nagging at the back of his head for the past two weeks. “How’s Daehyun?”

Yongguk’s eyes grow softer, kinder, almost sympathetic, as soon as Youngjae opens his mouth. “I wouldn’t say angry…”

Youngjae knows that’s Yongguk’s way of saying that Daehyun is furious, and he bites his bottom lip because now he knows that also means Daehyun may never forgive him.

“But he might need a little more time to cool off than Jongup and Junhong,” Yongguk continues.

“Well, I mean… If I never see him again, will you just tell him that I’m sorry?” Youngjae asks because that seems like the only way he’ll be able to get through to Daehyun. 

Yongguk purses his lips for a second, his eyes drifting upward in thought, before replying. “I’m sure you’ll see him again.”

Youngjae frowns, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion as he tries to figure out what Yongguk is saying. “How do you know that?”

“Your documentary is going to be featured in the Winter Student Film Fest, right?” Yongguk asks, his smile slowly turning a little more sly with each passing second.

And Youngjae finally realizes what Yongguk is saying. “Will you really?”

Yongguk shrugs. “I can’t guarantee that they’ll come, but I’m the oldest. They can’t disobey me without disrespecting me in the process.”

Youngjae’s eyebrows raise in both surprise and admiration. He hasn’t seen Yongguk pull the “hyung” card on them too many times before, but he’s no doubt impressed.

“Thank you,” Youngjae whispers. He thinks back to what Himchan said to him that night, and he isn’t sure if it’s because of the newfound hope coursing through him or the coffee, but his chest begins to hurt again. 

_If it were me, I’d have thrown you to the curb._

Yongguk truly is a saint. 

//

The week after finals comes to a close (and Youngjae is sure his brain can’t handle any more facts about historical and societal significances to trends in film), the Winter Student Film Fest comes around, and Youngjae will say he’s pleasantly surprised that his documentary made it through to the final six submissions just to be humble, but deep down he knew he’d make it here. He settles into his seat with Himchan beside him. He smiles as if sensing Youngjae’s anxiety, and Youngjae smiles meekly back. 

Youngjae glances at his watch. It’s about to start. When he looks back, the seats are beginning to fill up again. His stomach is doing flips, and he feels like he might throw up. He looks back again, hoping to find Daehyun, or any of the other members of Warrior, but he can’t find any of them in the crowd. He fights the sour feeling of disappointment quickly settling at the bottom his gut, overflowing until he feels like he needs to throw up. As the lights dim and the chatter dies down, a spotlight switches on, illuminating the moderator in a circle of light.

“This next film was submitted by Yoo Youngjae, titled _Warrior_.” He looks down at the small stack of notecards in his hands. “This is Warrior’s story, a band young and reckless enough to have the ambition to burn brighter than the stars.”

Youngjae fights the sigh that threatens to escape him. The summary sounds weird coming from the moderator’s mouth. He can’t believe he actually thought it was cool when he was writing it.

The spotlight turns off and the moderator makes his way off the stage.

The screen in the center of the stage is black.

Youngjae feels his stomach flip once more.

The title–– _Warrior_ ––comes into view as Daehyun runs across the Niche Club’s stage. The camera shakes as the crowd cheers and sways like a tumultuous ocean. Yongguk, Jongup, and Junhong follow him out. They’re all smiling. When Daehyun reaches the center of the stage, bathed in a halo of bright light, he points to the camera, to the audience, to Youngjae.

Daehyun brings the microphone to his mouth and his voice fills the theater. “We are Warrior! You fucks ready for this?!”

Youngjae feels his anxiety loosen its grip just a little on his stomach when the audience lets out quiet laughter.

//

When the film ends, the audience claps politely as the house lights slowly turn back on. Youngjae lets out a deep breath as the constriction in his chest loosens, but it isn’t quite enough. The moderator comes back on stage, smiling.

“Yoo Youngjae will come up on stage to answer a few audience questions now,” he says, then turns to Youngjae. “You ready?”

Youngjae nods mutely as he makes his way up to the podium. He doesn’t feel like he’s walking on solid ground. The spotlights are too bright. He can barely see into the audience. He fights the instinctual urge to squint into the lights. It takes him a couple moments to adjust his eyes. Several people take photographs, the flashing bulbs like sparks of lightning. He smiles.

The moderator steps down from the stage, and Youngjae tries to desperately ignore the swirling tension in his gut as he realizes that he’s completely and _utterly_ alone with his opening title card displayed on the screen beside him. “Alright, ask away!”

Youngjae sees several hands rise from the crowd. The moderator walks towards a man in his mid-fifties, who speaks into the microphone like a . “Interesting topic to cover, young man. What made you choose this particular subject? Why a rock band?”

“Admittedly,” Youngjae begins, and he prides himself in how steady his voice is when he speaks, “I started this project thinking how the reemergence of this type of counterculture could possibly threaten society, but the more time I spent with Warrior, they’ve helped me realize that there is _much_ more to your life than getting a diploma and career. Not to say that those are unimportant, but to emphasize those things makes you ignore everything else around you.”

The man beams approvingly, like Youngjae just gave the correct answer. “Excellent. Thank you.”

“Any others?” the moderator asks, looking to the audience expectantly.

Several hands raise from the crowd again. The moderator walks to each one, and Youngjae answers each question, feeling himself grow more comfortable with each passing minute.

“Alright, one more question before we have to move on,” the moderator announces. 

“I have one,” a voice rings out clear near the back of the theater.

And Youngjae freezes because he knows that voice. He _knows_ , and he’s delighted but also horrified because that voice belongs to _Daehyun_. If he looks close enough, he can see the black hat covering nearly half of Daehyun’s face, and the other members of Warrior beside him. He glances down at Himchan, who nods encouragingly. _Go on_ , he seems to say. _Say it like you fucking mean it_. Youngjae takes a deep breath to calm his nerves as Daehyun begins talking into the microphone.

“How did you feel about working with Warrior for such an extended amount of time?” Daehyun asks.

Youngjae smiles because he has nothing to hide, so he voices the meaning he’s been trying to get across this whole time. “An honor, actually. These are young men who have been shaped by a relentless society that has been telling them to follow one path for their whole lives, and seeing how they’ve come to eventually create their own path through their music was an enlightening experience.”

If Youngjae looks close enough, he can see that Daehyun is shocked into silence, but maybe it’s the lights playing tricks on his eyes. He definitely sees Yongguk nod in approval, though.

“Well, that’s all for the questions. Thank you for answering, Yoo Youngjae,” the moderator says as he makes his way back to the stage. 

“Thank you,” Youngjae says, bowing his head to the audience.

Just as Youngjae is about to walk down, he sees Daehyun walk out, followed by the rest of Warrior. The sound of the door opening resounds throughout the quiet theater. So, instead of heading back to his seat, Youngjae ducks backstage to reach the exit in time. He bursts out the door into the bright sunlight, his breaths coming out in visible puffs. He sees Daehyun stomping away with Yongguk beside him, hushed whispers sounding like vague threats. Jongup and Junhong are close behind them.

“I thought it was okay, considering,” Junhong shrugs, “considering we were expecting a whole lot worse, you know?”

Daehyun spins around to snap back at Junhong, but his eyes catch Youngjae’s, and his breath hitches. He pushes past Jongup and Junhong to stand in front of Youngjae, who will admit that he’s scared shitless when he sees the anger flare in Daehyun’s eyes like that night.

And then Daehyun starts punching him. “Yoo _fucking_ Youngjae, what the _fuck_?! You motherfucking _asshole_ ––”

“Daehyun…” Yongguk begins to reach out to stop Daehyun, but Youngjae shakes his head. He knows he deserves at least this.

“This would have been so much _fucking_ easier if you were just an asshole, but then you pull _that_ kinda shit?! _Fuck,_ I _hate_ you _so_ much right now!” Daehyun exclaims, every other word accentuated with a punch.

Each punch that connects begins to hurt more, but Youngjae can’t bring himself to stop Daehyun. 

“I hate that you’re so motherfucking _nice_ and _soft_ and you’re _im-fucking-possible_ to figure out, and…” Daehyun takes a breath, gritting his teeth and stopping his punches to instead tangle his fingers in Youngjae’s fancy white dress shirt. “And I hate that you _understand_.”

Youngjae is a little more than confused, but when he looks at the other members, they’re all avoiding his eyes. He isn’t sure what to make of this, but when Daehyun leans forward, wrapping his arms around Youngjae’s chest and pressing his forehead against Youngjae’s shoulder, his breaths hot and trembling against Youngjae’s collarbone, it becomes a little clearer. Because, suddenly Youngjae knows that gravitation isn’t anything without the right amount of attraction needed for entities to hold fast, and hating is easier than loving because it’s easier to close yourself off from someone than exposing yourself to someone so fully, so _absolutely_ , that your heart in their hand is the most powerful thing you can give them.

Youngjae realizes that the last time Daehyun did that, he was hurt so immensely, and it took him so long to finally be able to open up again just to be able to _sing_. Youngjae swears to never be that person.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry I said those things,” Youngjae whispers, his hands coming up to wrap around Daehyun’s shoulders.

Daehyun is silent. Youngjae feels him tense, and he feels Daehyun tighten his grip just a little harder.

“And I’m sorry I waited so long to give you an answer,” Youngjae says just to get that out of the way too. “I understand if you don’t want to forgive me, but I just…wanted to put that out there.”

Daehyun looks up and pulls away, glaring at Youngjae again, but the sharp edge is gone. “Took you long enough.”

Before Youngjae can even reply, Daehyun’s arms unwrap from Youngjae’s chest to rest on either side of Youngjae’s face, and he’s pulling him forward, tipping him on the balls of his feet until he feels like he’ll fall over, but Daehyun is there, solid and reassuring, and he realizes that the pressure on his lips is Daehyun’s, a little chapped but nice nonetheless. Youngjae can’t help the noise of content that escapes his throat as Daehyun’s tongue slips through.

“Hey, um, if you guys decide to start fuckin’ in the practice room, give us a warning, thanks,” Junhong says, which earns him an elbow to the ribs and a reprimanding glare from Yongguk. “Ow! What?! They’re finally making up, so I thought we might as well set up some ground rules!”

“Don’t fuck in the bedroom because half of it is mine,” Jongup quips shortly after.

“Guys, what the _fuck_ ,” Yongguk says with a sigh.

Daehyun pulls back, readjusting his hat with a light laugh, and Youngjae doesn’t know where to look because he missed how dazzling Daehyun’s smile is. “That’s fair.”

The theater doors burst open, and Himchan barrels outside. He sees Youngjae entangled with Daehyun, then the rest of Warrior, and sighs in relief. “Oh my _god_ , there you are. Come back inside. They’re about to announce the winning film. Hurry _up_.”

Himchan is already ushering Youngjae back inside with Warrior following close behind them. When they enter the theater, the moderator stands on the stage with the five other finalists beside him. Himchan pushes Youngjae up the stage before he quickly sits back in his own seat. Youngjae utters out a quick apology as he stands beside the finalists.

“Now that we’re all here, I’m proud to announce that this year’s…”

Youngjae doesn’t even remember what the moderator says because one second, he’s standing before a silent crowd, and suddenly that same crowd is clapping, and someone is patting his back and telling him congratulations, and someone else is shoving a microphone into his hands. And when Youngjae meets Himchan’s eyes ( _Stop spacing out, holy shit, say something_ ), he finally realizes that he won. 

His film won.

_Warrior_ won. 

“Oh. Um. Okay. Wow. Thank you.” Youngjae laughs a little nervously as the clapping finally fades out. He takes a deep breath as the five other students take their own seats in the audience. He sees Daehyun, Yongguk, Jongup, and Junhong in the crowd, and he grins. “Thank you, really. But I… I wouldn’t have been able to make this without Warrior themselves.”

Youngjae holds his hand out towards them, inviting them, and at first they’re hesitant, but a spotlight shines down on them. Eventually, Daehyun takes the lead and the rest follow after him. They stand beside Youngjae with Daehyun close enough to brush against his elbow. 

Youngjae can’t keep the smile off his face as Daehyun takes his free hand into his.

And Youngjae realizes that maybe this was never his story alone, but their story together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there’s no better time to finish this than during finals week. (jk no i’m so stressed don’t be like me). anyway, wow this is finally done, but i’m planning to write a bonus chapter about the drunk night youngjae doesn’t remember lmao


End file.
